


oh, tonight (we'll all be outlaws)

by finkpishnets



Series: oh, tonight (we'll all be outlaws) [1]
Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 18:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20122957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: “I don’t know about you,” Gwen says, a vicious curve to her lips and her eyes like flint, “but I fuckingrefuseto die because someassholeswant to live out their bestLord of the Fliesfantasies.”“Amen,” Grizz says, clinking their mugs together.[Or: Grizz doesn’t so much start a coup as a quiet, community service inspired rebellion.]





	oh, tonight (we'll all be outlaws)

**Author's Note:**

> i love how as a fandom we collectively looked at grizz and went ‘him, he’s the one to save everyone’ because he’s one of about three people in new ham with a working brain cell and adorable to boot. a+ guys, we stand on solid ground.
> 
> i, uh, can't remember some of the specifics on things like electricity and water _but_, come on, nothing about new ham realistically exists within the normal rules of physics, they just haven't realised it yet, _so_.
> 
> grain of salt, and all that.
> 
> (who knew i'd become invested in the netflix lite _lord of the flies_?
> 
> ...i'm kidding we all knew.)
> 
> please enjoy this love letter to gareth "grizz" visser.
> 
> **edit:** so this morning (a couple of weeks after posting) i was having a twitter convo with some friends who have just watched the show, and was made aware that, uh, the kids of new ham are apparently all juniors and seniors. because the parents didn’t care about the younger kids escaping the smell or something??? so for the sake of this fic, please ignore that?
> 
> (though omg i hope we get a random shot in the future of the freshman and sophomore’s in exactly the same situation only they’ve created a utopia, that would be hilarious)

**~**

The world doesn’t go up in flames so much as slowly but surely begin to suffocate. Not everyone’s noticed it yet, still high on the possibility of authority change and the hope that yet another person’s going to solve their problems for them, but the signs are there for anyone with half a brain cell to read. 

Of course, Grizz is questioning how many of those there are to go around these days.

“Well, shit,” Gwen says, a week after they get back from the expedition, over crappy coffee and hushed conversation. No one’s asked them for details, no one’s checked in at _all_, and that pretty much sums up the current leadership mentality. They’re all too happy to get their houses and toys and entitlement back to care about, oh, you know, everyone’s _survival_.

God bless middle class America. 

Even if Grizz weren’t so horribly disappointed he’s not sure he’d have it in him to be surprised.

“I don’t know about you,” Gwen says, a vicious curve to her lips and her eyes like flint, “but I fucking _refuse_ to die because some _assholes_ want to live out their best _Lord of the Flies_ fantasies.”

“Amen,” Grizz says, clinking their mugs together.

“A bunch of straight white men acting out isn’t anything new,” she says, “but who the fuck knows what’s going on with Lexie.”

Grizz can guess. Discontent rears its ugly head in a lot of ways, and Lexie’s been creeping towards it since they got here; Clark and Jason and unjust humiliation pushed aside by Allie as unimportant tipped it right over the edge. She’d looked for power when she felt powerless, and he can’t blame her for that. All the same, he gives it a month before she’s falling apart at the seams.

“We’ll think of something,” Grizz says eventually, because there’s no other choice. Because from the minute he couldn’t pull the trigger all those months ago he knew where his morality stood, and because he’s got more to fight for now.

“Keep your head down,” Gwen says before she leaves, running a hand through his hair. He ducks away with a smile. “I mean it. No point rocking the boat ’til we can capsize it all the fucking way.”

And, well.

There’s that.

**~**

Almost everyone’s back in their own homes, regardless of whether they want to be. There’s comfort in numbers, but the suspicious looks from Campbell and the Guard are enough to have people scattering, fear a good divider.

Grizz is fine with going home. He hasn’t been there in months, but it’s relatively untouched — a little too far from the communal hubs to have been a useful choice for cohabitation — most of his stuff still where he left it. Obviously it was too far out for the looters, too.

There’s a text from Sam when he gets out the shower, just asking how his day’s been, and Grizz’s chest hurts with it. Sam’s been giving him his space, partly out of respect for Grizz and partly because, well, new baby, and Grizz appreciates it, but—

He needs time to figure out where his head’s at, he _does_, but part of him just wants Sam to show up at his door and demand his attention. For them to talk it all out and wipe the slate clean, no secrets, no expectations, just whatever they could maybe, someday, possibly be.

It’s selfish, he knows. Sam and Becca have a newborn in a place that’s slipping further and further into the realms of dystopian nightmare, and Grizz’s crush can’t compete with that shit, _shouldn’t_, no matter how badly he wants to wrap Sam in his arms and never let go.

The world’s too far in the crap for selfishness, though.

One day, maybe, but right now there’s a _baby_.

If nothing else, things need to be better for her.

**~**

“So when’s the first farming expedition?” Becca asks. Eden’s asleep against her shoulder and from the dark circles under her eyes it looks like it’s the first time in a while.

“There isn’t one,” Grizz says, propping his elbows against the kitchen counter. Sam’s putting together a sandwich for Becca and shooting Grizz glances from the corner of his eye, and Grizz is practically buzzing with the need to reach out and touch. He wraps his hand around his water glass instead.

“What?” Gordie says, frowning, and Grizz nods.

“No one’s asked us anything about it.” In fact, the only time Grizz has even heard it _mentioned_ is in the vague, handwavy manner of ‘well, at least we know it’s there’, like the future’s a million miles away and not a few aching winter months from hitting them over the head like an anvil.

They may not be able to plant ’til spring, but the land needs to be prepped long before that, and once the first frost hits it’ll be too late. He remembers Lexie asking who was supposed to work the farm in that town meeting before everything had steadily started falling apart; that should have been a glaring sign against her mayoral campaign, honestly, but she’s not the only one who refuses to put in the effort to _learn_. 

“Everyone’s too busy doing Campbell’s bidding,” Sam says, handing Becca her lunch in exchange for Eden, bouncing her a little to stop her getting fussy. Grizz has to look away before the knots in his chest become unbearable.

“I don’t even want to know what he’s planning,” Becca says with a shudder, and there’s a quiet moment of agreement. 

Eden yawns into the silence between them, a bubble of noise muffled by Sam’s shoulder, and they all turn to watch her tiny hands hit out until she’s comfortable.

“Aww,” Gordie says, and yeah, it’s one of the cutest things Grizz has seen.

“Here,” Sam says, passing Eden to Gordie who looks ecstatic, and when he steps back he’s standing close to Grizz, their hips a barely there pressure behind the island and the look in his eyes when they lock deliberate and knowing.

_So fucking cute_, Grizz thinks and drinks the rest of his water.

**~**

No one really notices Grizz.

Like, he knows realistically that’s not true. He’s not a small guy, and even without the height and breadth, he’s still _noticeable_, if only for the roles he’s played throughout his life.

Still. He thinks maybe it’s because he spent so long a part of a group — Luke and Jason and Clark and whoever else was sporting a Letterman at the time — all interchangeable, The Jocks and The Guard and whatever the fuck they are now as they wave beer bottles at people in threat and Luke slowly dissolves into something cold and breakable. 

People see Grizz out and about and don’t think of him as _Grizz_ but as a single part of a whole, and that would suck if it wasn’t coming in so damn handy.

(The guys themselves don’t notice him either. 

Clark and Jason are so drunk and high on power that he’s not sure they’d notice if their parents suddenly reappeared.

Luke’s eyes slide over him, but that feels intentional. Like he can’t face the inevitable conversation so he’s going to delay it by pretending Grizz doesn’t exist, and Grizz wants to shake some sense into him but he doesn’t think Luke’s ready to hear it, not yet.)

Harry and Lexie and Campbell couldn’t care less about him. He’s sure that would change if Campbell caught wind of his feelings for Sam, but Grizz won’t have trouble pulling the fucking trigger if it ever came to that, and besides, for all he loves tormenting him, Campbell’s never actually seen his brother as a threat. It’s probably the only reason Sam and Becca and Eden are still safe and undisturbed, so thank God for small mercies.

Harry and Lexie, meanwhile, are a steadily declining wreck of self-sabotage and fear, and Grizz knows that even if they managed to pull it together for a whole minute long enough to remember he exists, they wouldn’t think much about him.

He’s not invisible, but he’s unnoticeable enough that when he packs up a haul of equipment and takes off into the woods, no one cares.

**~**

He makes it to week number two before someone finds out.

He’s only a few hundred feet into the trees when the sound of boots on undergrowth pulls him up short, and he’s planning a list of excuses when Gwen stumbles into view, cursing as her laces come undone.

“Shit,” she says, “wait a second. These damn boots aren’t playing ball.”

“_God_,” Grizz says, clasping a gloved hand to his chest, “you scared the fuck out of me.”

Gwen rolls her eyes but looks pleased with herself. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. I figured out where you were going, like, a week ago but I didn’t want to make it look suspicious.”

She starts walking again in the right direction, and Grizz extends his strides to catch up. Her eyes are fixed on the ground ahead of them, her lips are pulled into a tight line, and he realizes she’s waiting for him to send her home.

Which.

Not a fucking _chance_.

Before that second expedition, there’s no way Grizz would have thought of Gwen as an ally. She was Clark’s mean girlfriend, Popular with a capital P and a ™ after it, and not someone he’d ever had more than a few drunken conversation with. Then they’d walked through the forest and found hope and she’d come into his tent and he’d spilt honesty between them, and somewhere amongst all that he thinks they became friends.

Besides, he can respect a girl with a healthy survival instinct.

“There’s a quicker route if you don’t mind thicker undergrowth,” he says, and she shoots him a surprised look.

“Sure,” she says, tugging at the straps of her backpack. “Let’s go.”

**~**

“You’re falling asleep where you stand,” Sam says, and Grizz follows the path of his hands.

“M’fine,” he says, though he can’t feel his feet. He doesn’t even know how he got to the Pressman house; he’s sure he meant to go home, but instead he’s leaning against Sam’s doorframe as Sam sits cross-legged in his pyjamas, watching Grizz with concerned eyes.

“Come here,” Sam says, tapping the comforter, and Grizz almost trips over himself on the few steps between the door and the bed, twisting in mid-air so he drops backwards. The whole bed bounces, and Sam falls into him, pressing his hands against Grizz’s chest to keep balanced.

“Hi,” Grizz says, because Sam’s a pleasant weight above him, his lips tugged into an amused smile, and because Grizz really fucking likes him.

“Hi,” Sam says, and his eyes are glittering in the way that says he really fucking likes Grizz back.

It’s still a trip, having that look aimed at him; before they’d been taken to the parallel universe or whatever, Sam probably barely knew Grizz existed. Grizz isn’t being, like, self-deprecating about it, he just knows that Sam’s entire high school survival guide had consisted of avoiding the sort of people Grizz hung out with.

Grizz knew Sam existed, though.

It’s probably not something he’ll ever mention, because, like, he enjoys the ground _not_ opening up and swallowing him whole, but he can still remember the first time he noticed Sam. It wasn’t a momentous occasion or anything — Grizz already knew he liked boys — but it still felt a bit like the world shifted on its axis that day, fifteen and somehow at the same party despite their different crowds, Grizz three beers in and Sam a blur in the corner of his eye that got sharper the minute he tipped his head back and laughed, responding to something Becca or Cassandra or someone had said, hands a dance of movement in front of him. 

After that Sam was everywhere, and Grizz has been sporting a pretty solid crush since.

Sam’s still watching him, and Grizz smiles, knowing it must look super dopey but not caring all that much, especially when Sam traces the shape of it with his finger.

“Sleep,” Sam says, and Grizz sighs in agreement.

“Kiss first,” Grizz says with his best pout, and Sam laughs but agrees to that, too.

**~**

“Oh _wow_,” Bean says, and Grizz and Gwen have their garden tools up in defence before her words even sink in. Bean just raises an eyebrow at them. “I figured this was where you guys were coming, but you’ve done so much already!”

“Jesus, Bean,” Gwen says, squeezing her eyes shut and leaning on her shovel. When she’s caught her breath she stares at Bean sharply. “Wait, did you come out here _alone?_ You _know_ how fucking dangerous that is!”

Bean waves a dismissive hand. “Of course I didn’t,” she says, just as Mickey trips out of the tree-line.

“Hey,” he says, “I think I just saw a rabbit!”

Grizz shakes his head, but he can’t say he’s not glad to see them. They’ve both brought some basic tools, and Grizz has been stockpiling bigger things over the last month and a half, so they’re quick to get to work, happily asking about Grizz and Gwen’s progress so far and what still needs to be done. 

There’s no way they’re going to have enough ready before it becomes unbearably cold to be fully operational in the spring, but there’s enough ground tilled for a basic garden, and between the four of them they should be able to at least get it so they can start planting as soon as possible. Hell, if the winter’s kind, they might even be able to plant some hardy crops now. Grizz doesn’t know how well they’ll survive, but it’s worth a try.

“I’ll take some soil samples,” Bean says, digging around in her bag, “so we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Great!” Grizz says, pointing at her. “Yes. Awesome.”

It’s— Well, it’s barely even an allotment patch right now, but Grizz has built some fertilizer bins and raided the untouched seed aisle at both the hardware and grocery stores, and it’s _something._

Not enough to feed a small town, not by a long shot, but he thinks they feel _useful_ all the same.

**~**

Winter’s as bad as expected.

No one knows where Allie and Will are, and the discontent smothering the town is getting thicker by the day. Grizz thinks that’s Campbell’s plan, if he has one; a pathological social experiment to see how long it takes before there’s nothing but chaos and anarchy. Maybe he just wants everyone to become more like _him_, and Grizz knows he’s not the only one who’ll die before that happens.

Food’s hard to come by. They were short as it was, but with the return of hoarding there’s definitely people going without. Grizz ran the town vegetable plot, though, and he’s been stockpiling and freezing since summer, just in case.

He makes a giant pot of simple stew on the Pressman’s hob, and then raids the cupboards until he finds an old recipe book that says how to make fresh bread. By the time everyone surfaces, the kitchen smells warm and inviting and not like there’s a very real chance of people starving before March; the bread’s a bit misshapen — he’s not sure he let it prove long enough — but it’s still warm when he slices it up, and the expression on everyone’s faces is totally worth it. 

“You’re a prince among men,” Bean says, filling up jugs of water so they can eat at the table like civilization’s still a thing. “Seriously, whoever snags you up is going to be _so_ lucky.”

Grizz blushes down to his roots, and Sam splutters into his water glass before Becca slaps him on the back.

“I’m okay,” Sam says, and doesn’t meet Grizz’s eyes.

“I’m going to text Gwen and Mickey,” Bean continues, ignoring the awkwardness. “There looks like there’s plenty. Is that okay?”

“Kelly, too,” Becca adds, bouncing Eden on her knee.

“Absolutely,” Grizz says, and slides into the empty chair next to Sam. Sam reaches out and curls their pinky fingers together, and Grizz is amazed he’s not lighting up the whole damn room. “Bon Appétit,” he says, when he can find his voice.

No one needs to be told twice.

**~**

Somehow they make it to spring.

Grizz thinks it’s mostly because even the new regime won’t risk exposure to the elements. The snow starts in late December and it feels like it keeps falling through February. There’s no one to grit the streets, and it’s down to those with common sense and thick enough winter clothes to shovel the drives and make sure there’s a route to and from the essentials. 

Grizz spends most of it at the Pressman house. He’s sure that many people under one roof should have the Guard spitting, but the presence of a baby and the weird and incorrect assumption that Gordie and Bean aren’t a threat keeps them left alone.

Realistically there’s nothing for the Guard to even worry about. They spend almost an entire month watching every DVD they can find, huddled in the sitting room under blankets with mugs of smuggled hot chocolate and bowls of soup. Kelly comes by to study with Gordie, the two of them a force to be reckoned with, and sometimes Gwen shows up just to fling her legs across Grizz’s lap and demand he feed her.

There’s still Allie and Will, lost somewhere to Campbell’s mercy, and it won’t be long before everything falls apart for good, slowly or in one devastating swoop.

But for now?

For now there’s short days and long nights, Sam’s lips tracing patterns Grizz can’t forget into his skin, and learning each other in every way they can. He knows realistically their sex life is mediocre at best; they’re young and inexperienced and, like, he’s not saying he can’t remember _some_ stuff, but porn shouldn’t be confused with actual research and he doubts the town library’s rife with instruction manuals. It doesn’t matter, though. They’re figuring it out together, and it’s overwhelming and ridiculous and so _good_ that sometimes Grizz forgets to breathe.

They talk, too. About their favorite books and movies and what they’d wanted to do after graduation. About growing up, and the people they know, and how shitty everything is, and it feels good to have a solid foundation to build on. 

Everyone in the house _knows_, he’s sure of it. Even if they haven’t picked up on how close they sit, or the not-so-casual touches, there’s no way they’ve missed how many nights Grizz hasn’t gone home, disappearing into Sam’s room and reappearing with the morning light. No one says anything, though, and he expects they’re being polite and understanding or some shit, at least until Becca pulls him aside and says, “So, okay, you seem to be serious about this, right?” and “There’s something you should know.” and a lot of things start to make more sense.

“I wanted to tell you,” Sam says later, sat against the end of the bed, “but I couldn’t.”

“I know,” Grizz says, and finally understands everything clear as day. “I get it.”

Grizz likes to think he’s a pretty decent guy, but he doesn’t know that he could father a kid that wasn’t biologically his own at _seventeen_ just to stop his best friend from coming under scrutiny (he doesn’t think anyone should give a shit about the who’s and why’s at all, to be honest, and he’s not sure why Becca — strong, smart, survivalist Becca — thought she needed, what? An alibi? But then, he’s a guy so maybe he’ll never understand. Or maybe it’s because she really doesn’t want people to know who the bio-dad is, which is a little scary). 

He doesn’t _get_ it, but he respects the hell out of it all the same.

And, _well_.

The truth feels like stable footing.

**~**

The weather shifts and they get to work.

Bean’s been spending the long, winter months researching the hell out of everything from soil types to vegetation life cycles, and she hands out cliff notes the first time they sneak through the forest. Grizz hugs her until she smacks the back of his head, claiming she can’t breathe. 

There’s still too few of them, and it’s dirty, difficult work, but there’s hope in it they cling to. Around week five new people start appearing, tools in hand, and Grizz is nervous until Gordie shoots him a salute from amidst the crowd, clipboard in hand as he assigns jobs to kids who look relieved and lost and like maybe they’ve been waiting for someone to let them have a say in their own survival.

“Someone’s going to have to learn to shoot,” Gwen says, leaning on her rake, and Grizz frowns until she nods at the tree line and the rustle of small animals.

“We’ll have to do some recon first,” Grizz says. “So we don’t over-do it.”

Gwen grins. “Dare you to assign Reproduction Rates of Rabbits to a freshman.”

In the end it turns out Mickey’s mom is (_was_) a conservationist and he’s been tracking animals in the wild since he could walk. Admittedly it was usually a little more exotic, but he’s more than happy to put together a small team and start working out how many critters they can, well, _eat_, without wiping them off the board.

…Grizz still can’t believe this is his life.

“Wow,” Sam says, shading his eyes with his hand and taking in everything they’ve done so far. Sometimes it feels like they’re still at step one, so his awe leaves Grizz warm.

“Yeah?” he says, and Sam wraps his arms around Grizz’s shoulders, holding him tight. 

“You’re amazing,” Sam says when he pulls away, and Grizz saves the sign to memory.

**~**

The uncertainty can’t last. 

Grizz isn’t there when it happens, busy searching the forest for the right kind of wood to make bows under the guidance of a surprisingly knowledgable sophomore who flushes when Grizz compliments her and flushes harder still when Gwen does.

When they return, the town’s on fire.

Grizz wishes that were entirely metaphorical, but the smoke coming from the direction of the library says otherwise.

“Fucking hell,” Gwen says, gripping his arm. “Shit.”

The sophomore — _Jackie_, he needs to remember — looks terrified, eyes wide and shaking hands, and Grizz hates it and understands it and can’t find it in himself to feel anything other than unadulterated anger. 

“Those morons,” he says, and means Campbell and Harry and Lexie. Luke and Clark and Jason. Everyone else who can’t seem to keep a grasp on their basic fucking common sense, let alone their humanity. He turns to Gwen and knows his eyes must look like flint. “Remember when you said you weren’t going to die letting these assholes live out their best _Lord of the Flies_ fantasies? I think it’s time we did something about that.”

New Ham is a breeding ground of discontentment, the grab for power by pathetic rich kids like Harry and psychopaths like Campbell, the illusion of it by lost children like Lexie. They all still think the world owes them a damn thing, forgetting that there’s not going to be a world left for much longer if they keep acting like the unaccountable brats they are.

Grizz isn’t going to let the rest of these kids suffer because they can’t get their goddamn shit together.

“You’ve got a plan?” Gwen says, and it doesn’t sound like a question. One of these days he really needs to ask her when she started trusting him so implicitly.

“A theory,” he says, and heads for the other side of town..

**~**

“What do you guys think?” Grizz says, arms crossed over his chest to stop himself fidgeting.

“You want us to move to the farm?” Becca says, rocking Eden in her lap. “Who? And…Grizz, where are we meant to _sleep?_ I hated camping _before_ I had a baby, there’s no way I’m doing it now.”

“Cabins, maybe?” Gordie says, before Grizz can answer. “I’m sure we could learn how to build them.”

“In case you didn’t notice, they burned down the library. Campbell may be evil but he’s not stupid. _Scientia potentia est_, and all that,” Bean says, and Gordie’s shoulders slump a little. “Besides, it would take too long even _with_ a blueprint.”

“Once again,” Becca says, “_baby_. A log cabin sounds super cute, I’m sure, but I’m kinda relying heavily on the simple things like, I don’t know, heat and running water.”

Sam’s watching Grizz from Becca’s side. Grizz doesn’t even think he realizes that his fingers are curled gently around Eden’s foot. 

“You have a plan,” he says, echoing Gwen with just as much trust and twice the pride. Grizz’s heart sings with it even as he hopes he isn’t about to fuck them all to last Sunday. 

They’ve already tested it out, though, him and Gwen and Tate, the freshman kid who watched them warily until he figured out what they were doing and started tripping over himself to help.

“The trailer park,” Grizz says, and sees Bean’s eyes widen in amazement, catching on straight away.

“_Brilliant_,” she says.

“Most people don’t even know it’s there, since it’s not in the ‘nice’ part of town,” Grizz explains. “There’s only a couple of kids from school who live there, and they’re scared as shit and happy to bolt as long as they can come with us. Yeah, the trailers themselves aren’t massive, but there’s, like, over four dozen of the things just sat there. A couple equipped trucks and some time and we can move them all, no problem.”

“That still doesn’t account for electricity,” Becca says, and she’s _right_.

Except.

Well.

“There’s not a power station in New Ham,” Grizz says, and the room goes still. Gordie’s frozen in his seat, and Grizz is sure he’s wondering how he missed it. How they _all_ did.

“Holy shit,” Kelly says, sitting forward in her seat, looking exactly the way Grizz had felt when he’d finally slotted the pieces together.

Maybe it’s not magic, but it sure as hell feels close enough.

“Does it reach that far out?” Gordie says excitedly, and Grizz nods.

“We took one of the trailers out there yesterday,” he says. “To see if there was a clear enough path to manage it. It’s not plugged into a damn thing and there’s still running water.”

“Well, hell,” Becca says, stunned. “Maybe whatever trapped us here didn’t want us all to die horribly after all.”

**~**

The trailers fill up quickly. The kids more worried about survival than keeping their Playstations are happy to bunk up, and Kelly appears on day two of the move with a truck bed full of garden furniture and tarpaulin to make marquees.

“You need communal space,” she says, “and who _wouldn’t_ want to sit out here?”

Her smile when she looks over the garden reminds Grizz they’re doing the right thing. 

“Send anyone who wants to come our way, okay?” he says, because she’s sticking with her hospital and the people that need it for now and he can’t quantify how much he respects her for that. 

“Anyone?” she asks pointedly, and Grizz nods. He and Sam have spent several sleepless nights talking it over, discussing every pro and con and _what if?_ and in the end Grizz can’t be that person, the one to turn someone away because of hypotheticals. They’ll deal with shit as it happens, and until then they’ll be the safest place any of these kids can be. 

“You’re a really good guy, Grizz,” Kelly says, surprising him with a tight hug. “And one hell of a leader.”

“Yikes,” he says, pulling a face, and she’s still laughing as she drives away.

**~**

Honestly, Grizz is amazed he’s not been hogtied in the back of a van yet.

There’s no way the greater New Ham population haven’t figured out what they’ve been doing. Summer’s closer than not (the first crop showing its face, and _God_, the thrill of that had been enough to fuel hope for a _year_) and there’s at least thirty of them beginning to slowly settle in, moving the necessities through the forest and marvelling at the impossibility of electricity coming from nowhere. 

(Personally Grizz is just really fucking pleased they didn’t need to find engineers and plumbers and electricians amongst teenagers. They’re definitely safer not playing with some things.

The _magic?_ Well. 

He’s still wrapping his head around that.)

They’re no longer being subtle, and there’s a part of Grizz that’s still worried but most of him’s just defiant.

The day Helena shows up with a stack of bibles is the day he knows they’re officially _known_.

“For anyone that wants them,” she says, placing them on a plastic garden table and not meeting Grizz’s eye. Her shoulders are pulled tight and the sunlight picks up the shadows on her face. 

“Hey,” he says as she turns, and watches her tense. “Are you okay?”

She swallows several times, and he can’t even begin to think what she’s been going through. He wants to think her an idiot for trusting Luke’s word about Allie, but there are worse things than believing in the person you love, and he won’t be a dick about that.

(Or— he’ll try not to be. There’s still a cynical part of him that can’t help but wonder when everyone shut their eyes so tight.)

“If I can get Elle here,” she says instead of answering, “can you protect her?”

It’s a huge question and Grizz doesn’t need to know the details to get that.

Protecting Elle means defying Campbell, and not just in the quiet way they’ve been doing so far.

It means declaring civil war.

“I can try,” he says, eventually, and Helena’s eyes finally show signs of life.

**~**

Gwen sees Elle and immediately ushers her into the trailer she shares with Bean, silently declaring their third empty spot hers. 

Grizz thinks that one look at her black eye and they’d all have happily done the same.

“I was worried I’d made the wrong choice,” he says, lips a shadow of movement meant for Sam’s eyes only, and Sam nods, gripping his hand.

“You didn’t,” he says, and his opinion on the matter means more than anyone else’s combined. Campbell’s his blood after all, and isn’t that just the definition of hell. “We can’t spend forever afraid of him.”

Later they sit around eating stuffed zucchini and avoiding the topic of revenge as best they can, which is, uh, pretty badly. Grizz isn’t sure if he should apologize for making this decision without them, but he can’t regret the relief in Elle’s shoulders even if it’s just temporary. 

“Look,” he says when they’ve covered the topic of fertilizer for at least ten minutes too long, "I know this leaves us in a bad situation, but the whole point of any of this is to keep each other safe.”

“Damn straight,” Gwen says, and Sam presses a gentle kiss against his shoulder. 

“Totally,” Bean says. “Yes. But…what do we do now?”

It’s a valid question. None of them know how Campbell’s going to react, and Grizz is already making plans to install sprinkler systems in case of fire, and alarms around the perimeter. He hates it, but he’ll do what he needs to.

“Don’t worry,” Elle says, and they all jump. She’s holding herself tall, and the fresh air is doing her complexion good already. He wonders when the last time she left the house was and regrets his choices even less. “If he comes after me again, I’ll kill him.”

Grizz bites his tongue. It’s not like he hasn’t had the same thought at one point or another, choices he’d make for Sam and Eden and the family you make for yourself. 

He can’t say he’d ever announce it so bluntly though.

“No one would ever ask you to do that,” Becca says, shocked, and Elle’s laugh is a bitter, jagged thing.

“They wouldn’t have to,” she says. “I’m just mad it didn’t take the first time.”

And, well.

There’s not much any of them can say to that.

**~**

“Grizz, man,” Luke says, one foot on the bottom step of Grizz’s trailer. Sam’s still in bed, and Becca’s taken Eden for a walk to check how the potato crop’s coming along. From over his shoulder, Grizz can see kids laughing as they weed the beds, the day’s hunting group heading towards the tree line, and yesterday’s board game-athon still going strong in the communal area. 

“Luke,” he says, and nods towards the large coffee urns set up within easy reach of as many people as possible. 

Luke’s eyes are taking everything in, and Grizz lets him, smiling at a bunch of freshman carrying buckets for scrumping.

“So,” Grizz says when they’re each holding a mug and the silence has stretched too long. “How’s shit?”

Luke laughs. “Oh, yeah, great man. Totally fantastic.”

Grizz runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. “Why are you here, Luke?”

Luke bites his lip, looking uncomfortable, and Grizz waits him out. “Harry and Lexie are pissed, man. They think you should be checking in, and, like, sending them food and stuff.”

“Uh huh,” Grizz says and doesn’t pull his punches, “tell them I’ll send you all a care package when Allie and Will are sat at this table in one piece.”

Some of the color drains from Luke’s cheeks.

“Grizz,” he says, “man, you don’t know what they did…”

“Fuck you,” Grizz says, cutting him off. “In case you forgot, I’m not Clark or Jason. It barely takes two braincells to figure out exactly what went down and why. But, hey, how’s it feel being under Campbell’s thumb? Has he straight up murdered anyone out of boredom yet or is he still stroking Harry’s wounded ego?”

Luke’s hands tighten around his coffee mug.

“We’re a community…” he starts, meeting Grizz’s eyes with a tight jaw, and Grizz shakes his head, standing up.

“No,” he says, “_we’re_ a community. I don’t even know who you _are_ anymore, man.”

“I’m just trying to keep people safe,” Luke says, and the expression on his face would be laughable if it wasn’t so sad.

“Dude, _you_ don’t even believe that.”

“This can’t last forever,” Luke says, and Grizz nods.

“You’re right, it can’t. When you guys are finally ready to live instead of rule, we’ll be here.”

**~**

The sun’s shining and everyone’s working. The summer crop’s come out better than even Grizz had hoped, and he wonders if there’s magic in that too. 

Karma in their decisions, or something.

New Ham’s still standing, just about, but there’s still a steady stream of kids for them to make room for on the farm. Soon they’ll have to start thinking about winter, but Grizz isn’t too worried; they’ve made it this far on hard work and hope, after all.

Campbell hasn’t shown his face, and they’re not letting down their guard, but they’re not letting fear guide them either. Besides, Elle has become scarily capable with a bow lately. Grizz thinks he’ll take their chances.

Helena’s started coming by to see Elle, staying for lunch and eyeing the small paradise they’ve created with a dreamy expression, and Grizz wonders if they should start making a space for her soon.

It’s not _perfect_, but it’s theirs.

Survival may be the endgame, but he’s surrounded by people who understand that love and support and grace are all necessary components in that. 

Somedays he thinks they might just make it.

**~**

“Hi,” Grizz says, pressing a kiss to Sam’s smile.

“Look at what you _made_,” Sam says, waving a hand at the world around them, and Grizz blushes, ducking his head a little and feeling stupid for it when Sam lifts his chin with a gentle finger. “You did this. You saved us.”

“Nah,” Grizz says, and means it. He and his team may have found this place, and he may have refused to let it go to waste, but that’s all. “I just made sure everyone had the chance to save themselves.”

Sam eyes are so soft and so fond, and Grizz can’t help but kiss him again.

Like everything else around them, it feels like hope and magic.

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on [tumblr.](https://madroxed.tumblr.com)


End file.
